


War Games

by GirlKnownSomewhere



Series: Blues & Greens [3]
Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: 1960s, Band Fic, F/M, Love/Hate, Sequel, Unrequited Love, blink-and-you'll-miss-it mike/ann
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 03:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlKnownSomewhere/pseuds/GirlKnownSomewhere
Summary: Another mini-sidefic a part of the Blues & Greens ficverse. This time featuring three episodes between Mike and Ann.





	1. Just Begun to Care

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is inspired by these vintage magazine scans 
> 
> https://www.monkeeslivealmanac.com/blog/the-monkees-recall-our-early-lives
> 
> I changed the publisher from '16' to Tiger Beat for obvious reasons, heh
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Monkees or Ann Moses' likeness

Ch. 1: Just Begun to Care

Hollywood, March 1967

Today was one of the days where Ann participated in ‘ordinary’ work life (i.e. staying in the office to write or edit some articles and spreads). It’s the least exciting aspect of journalism and editorial efforts, but hey, even office days at Tiger Beat are better than retail or being someone’s secretary. Currently she was transcribing a column where the Monkees each share in their own words their earliest childhood memories. Micky gave a cute story on how serious he took his first time putting out cookies and milk for Santa. Davy shared his recollection of participating in one of Manchester’s traditional ‘Whitsuntide Walk’s when he was a three-year-old. Ann shook her head amusedly at Peter embellishing a tale of how he got into a fight with a military superior while the Thorkelson family was stationed in Berlin. But then…there was Mike’s…

“I’m not printing this.” 

Mike picked up the piece of notebook paper he had previously written for the young reporter and barely reacted to his own handwriting. “What’s wrong with it?”

Ann was now standing inside his set trailer slightly perturbed with her arms folded across her front. “You realize your demo is 7th graders, right? They’re not going to understand, or frankly care, about your existential crisis.”

“Well this can be an educational lesson then,” was all he replied.

“When you say ‘my life didn’t exist before I was 19’ or ‘I never had any friends,’ you’re going to confuse them, or maybe even freak them out.”

“You’re also conveniently neglecting the paragraph where I discuss how something inexpensive can still be of great personal value,” Mike countered.

“Sure—which you then follow up on claiming you still only have a couple of friends,” Ann tossed back. “Which isn’t even true, you socialize almost as much as Peter and Micky.”

He just shrugged and lifted his legs to rest his feet on the table. Ann sighed and rubbed her temple. “Mike, please. Can’t you just share the first time you went to the zoo or something?”

“Nope. Because I never went to the zoo as a child. What can I tell you, life in Dallas is uneventful.”

Ann snorted at that claim. “Well, Chuck will never go for this,” she attempted with name-dropping her magazine’s owner.

“Why? No foul language, no graphic violent descriptions, no s-e-x. Can’t imagine what the mothers of America could possibly complain about in between girl scouts and homework. In fact, Peter’s story is the one most likely to get complaints about violence,” he concluded with a smirk.

Ann sighed in defeat. “Would it kill you to make my job easy for once?”

“Want me to discuss the day I realized my father wasn’t going to come back home?”

She wasn’t expecting him to be that blunt and stood speechless for a moment. “…No…”

Mike then placed his feet back down on the floor and leaned forward toward her. “Look, you’re pretty good at your job. I’m fairly confident you can publish my little journal entry without getting suspended or fired or whatnot.”

Ann considered his words. “…Was that a compliment I heard?”

It was now her turn to render him speechless. After a few silent seconds, she picked up the article notes with her own smirk. 

A week later she was standing in her editor’s office as he double-checked the special column. 

“The Santa story’s cute. Same with Davy’s English account. Peter’s always a goof.” Ralph pushed the pages forward on the desk in Ann’s direction. “Good job.”

Ann grabbed the paper with a nod and turned to head back to her own spot.

“Oh, by the way.”

She turned back mid-step. “Yeah?”

“Can you tell Mike to lighten up next time?”


	2. This Doesn't Seem to be My Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I set the date for the 'Ditty Diego' recording back a month so this chap could fit into the narrative of my B&G fic. The beginning scene with Peter is also inspired by a quote I found from Lynne Randell (the band's former opening act).

Ch. 2: This Doesn’t Seem to be My Day

LA, June 1968

It started out a normal sunny, mid-summer day when Ann woke up that morning. She met with Genie at the diner across from her neighborhood for a casual early lunch, and then her fashionable friend dropped her off at RCA. Davy called her last night to let her know the whole band plus Sammy and Linda were going to be there if she wanted to hang out. The guys were meeting to record the vocals for the ‘Ditty Diego’ chant for their movie soundtrack. With Genie driving her there, Ann figured she could save some gas and convince Davy or Peter to drop her back home at the end of the day.

Even though she wasn’t Bob’s and Jack’s biggest fan currently, Ann appreciated that they were strictly professional while aiding the band and Gerry Goffin in producing the track. But she still had a hunch the two newly bosom buddies discreetly had alternative motives with the Monkees’ motion picture. While chatting with Sam and Linda in the recording studio hall for about 15 minutes, the two girls revealed that the whole group was going to carry on in the city after the studio session for a few drinks. Ann agreed to tag along since she didn’t have anything planned for the night. When she went back into the studio to grab her bag, it looked like everyone had already left the room until—

“AH! OH MY GOD. _PETER!_ ”

Seconds later Ann was rushing out into the hall in a huff and immediately upset. Peter followed her while trying to button the top of his pants.

“Ann, wait, hold on—” 

Right as he tried to touch her arm, she curtly moved her arm away and went straight for the elevator. The musician continued to follow her actively.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Why are you so upset? I thought we were back to being friendly—”

Ann quickly turned around in disgust. “Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean I want to see you making it with your groupies.” Surprisingly, Ann hadn’t dealt with the issue of running across groupie antics backstage or at parties since going into music journalism. Probably because the popstars were less wild than the rockstars usually, although she considered that Peter would likely be even worse if he had joined a traditional rock band. She had already assumed the whole setup by the behavior between the women and the musicians, but now was the first time she got an up close accidental view of the fornication—and it was unfortunately with one of her closest friends.

“Why do you sound jealous?” He asked puzzled.

Ann was aghast at that suggestion. “This isn’t jealousy, I’m appalled that you considered public sex a good idea. And right next to my stuff! What the hell?”

Peter looked equally baffled, but for clearly different reasons. “Ann, oppressed sexuality is over, we don’t have to be asha—”

“Supporting the sexual revolution is not a good excuse, Peter,” she interrupted annoyed.

“Annie, you don’t have to be a hippie to understand this. You know, all forms of love are beautiful—”

“Oh, spare me,” she shot back right as the elevator opened and she stormed inside, pushing the ‘down’ button before he could follow in. When the door opened again, Ann pulled her purse over her shoulder, walked into the lobby and looked around to see who from the group was left. She found Gerry and Mike casually lingering by the front door, with the former first to notice her.

“Oh, hi, Ann. Looking for a ride? I think Pet—”

“NOT Peter. Or Bob and Jack,” she quickly confirmed. “Where’s Davy? I’ll ride with him.”

“Well, he just left with Linda, and Micky and Sammy were the first ones to head out. I’ll be honest, I have no idea where Bob and Jack went. And I’m actually skipping drinks and meeting Carole in Santa Barbara, so…your options are basically Peter or Mike. Or you could find a cab, I guess,” Gerry offered. 

Letting out an irritated breath, she considered her options. Not sure if she even had enough money for a taxi on her, Ann waited a long moment before finally looking at Mike.

“Would you mind?”

The songwriter sported a brief look of surprise, and responded slightly curiously: “No, fine by me.”

“Great,” was all she replied as she followed him out of the building. Neither spoke as Ann casually slid up beside him and they strolled to his vehicle. After a few moments, Mike broke the silence.

“Peter must have done something pretty bad for you to willingly choose me.”

She gave another pause. “…You could say that…”

When they stopped walking, Ann realized they were in front of a hired car instead of his own Riviera or his motorcycle. Not saying anything despite her surprise, she slid into the left side of the backseat as he got into the right. As they drove out of the parking lot, Ann lazily gazed out the window, unhappy with how things ended with Peter. She passively looked to the opposite side of the car to find Mike still wearing his sunglasses, like usual. But then she quickly noticed he had fallen asleep. She thought back to when Peter once told her Mike was prone to all-nighters with his music sometimes. And he did have a lot on his plate currently with the movie, soundtrack and a solo record. She went back to window watching until what felt like 20 minutes when the car stopped in front of a club she didn’t recognize. “Mike?” She tried somewhat calmly. When he didn’t wake, she then cautiously nudged his shoulder. With no response again, she effortlessly whacked his arm, causing him to instantly awaken. “We’re here.”

“Oh, cool.” He then placed his sunglasses in his inside jacket pocket. Ann exited the car as she heard Mike briefly speak with the driver, and noticed the crowd was a bit rowdier than she was used to at her favorite spots in the city. Cocking an eyebrow, she stepped on to the sidewalk while Mike got out of the car. Just then a big, unruly crowd haphazardly made their way to the entrance. As a rather large man bumped into Ann, she instinctively shrieked and felt Mike grab her hand and lead her into the club. By the time they made it inside, she instantly ungripped and said “thanks” to his amusement at how quickly she let go. Ann then looked around the club. It wasn’t as dark as the usual nightclubs she or her friends went to. The customers were also a lot more casual, with most wearing jeans and leather jackets, and the men bearded. Now that she thought about it, it was peculiar how easy it was to walk into the room…

“Um, Mike….Where are we?”

“Trying to decipher that myself,” he answered while looking at the scene. He almost fit in with his usual denim attire, though he had on one of his suede jackets and was beardless. More fitting compared to Ann anyway, who was in a dark blue skirt, white top and matching blue blazer.

“This isn’t a club, it’s a bar,” she informed. “Where were we supposed to meet everyone?”

“I think…the London Fog,” Mike revealed after a thought.

Ann recognized the name as a place on the Strip. She remembered seeing the Doors play there a couple years ago when they were still a local band. “So not only are we at the wrong place, but the completely wrong side of town.”

“Hey,” a man called and grabbed their attention. “If you and your girl are here for the backroom party, you’re an hour early.”

 _‘Girl? Oh, ewww.’_ Ann's eyebrows shot up in bewilderment. “Uh, I don’t know how well you know the Monkees, but this one’s married. Like two kids and a house married,” she added for emphasis that they weren’t a couple. The man just shrugged as if he didn’t know what she was talking about and went on his way. Mike shook his head as he gave a chuckle.

“Gee, the contempt you express for me sure feels gratifying,” he sardonically stated.

“Me? You gave me hell for over a year for no reason! It’s not like it’s one-sided.”

“‘Hell’ is a stronger word than I would have used…”

“Oh really? How about—”

But her comments were cut off by a loud howl she heard from outside. Remembering they were lost, Ann backtracked the conversation. “How did you not realize we weren’t going the right way? What did you talk to the driver about?”

“Not much. My Spanish is a bit rusty,” he claimed.

Ann groaned as she closed her eyes in frustration.

“You could’ve spoken up at any point during the drive too.”

“I…actually didn’t know which club we were going to before we left. I just figured whoever I rode with would know…” She confessed, realizing how sloppy that was in retrospect.

“Ah. Well, looks like both of us were poor decision makers tonight.” 

There was a quick pause before Ann heard the sound of a glass shattering and made for the door. “We need to find the rest of the group.” Mike followed her until she reached the edge of the sidewalk and stood blankly. “I suddenly wish we were in New York…” Referring to the fact that LA didn’t have a ton of taxis on hand. 

“Relax,” he casually offered. “We just need to find a payphone.” Ten minutes later, Mike and Ann were across the street waiting for another car. Leaning against a building, Ann informally attempted conversing.

“Not that I need to know, but where is Phyllis tonight? You’re the only one missing a date.” _‘Well, besides me,’_ Ann added to herself.

Mike briefly held a look of discomfort before answering: “She’s spending the weekend with her sister.”

Ann noticed his grimace and just said “Oh.” She then wondered if their two small sons were with Phyllis too, but kept the question to herself. As a cab rolled up to their street, the two hopped in and headed to Sunset. Halfway en route, they bumped into usual heavy, weekend traffic and opted to get out and walk the rest of the way once they were at a red light.

“So what did Peter do?” Mike bluntly asked after a couple of minutes of walking silently.

Ann almost forgot she was mad at his bandmate before the mix-up in location and instantly frowned. “I…caught him up close and…personal…with a female friend,” she answered more awkwardly than she intended.

He made a sound of something like a “heh” while smirking. “You know he’s even worse on tour, right?”

Ann looked at him knowingly for a second. “…So I’ve heard.”

“I thought you two were just friends though?”

Her brow creased in annoyance. “That doesn’t mean I need to literally see that kind of activity in front of my face! Anyone could have walked in.” 

“Well, you do sound a little jealous,” he slightly teased.

“NO, I don’t.” She was now wishing she’d just spent the little cash she had on a cab back at the studio. She huffed while continuing down the street.

“It’s even more humorous you chose to ride with me if that was the only case,” Mike continued.

Ann assumed he was referring to his extramarital affair. “At least you attempted to be discreet with that.”

Around five minutes carried with silence before they stopped at a crosswalk that was at a red light. Ann inadvertently spotted a face she recognized on the other side of the street exiting a lowkey beatnik café. “Hey, look. There’s Roger McGuinn.”

The Byrds frontman crossed the other end of the street after lighting a cigarette. Ann noted how strange it was to see him without his trademark small framed sunglasses. When she took a glance at Mike, she did a double take at his apparent frozen state. “Didn’t you meet him over two years ago? How are you still starstruck?”

Mike abruptly changed his face back to neutral and placed his hands in his jacket pockets to look more casual. “You don’t just get over seeing talent in person,” he stated plainly.

Ann thought that response was a little odd, especially since she was already over ‘fangirly’ feelings. But she let it slide. “We could go say hi—”

“No,” he shot down.

“Why not? Now that you’re both on the same level, if the Byrds and the Monkees were to ever break up, maybe you and him could form an epic country-rock super group,” she suggested.

“Don’t be naïve, Ann,” he expressed with what she couldn’t read as irritation or embarrassment. She just shrugged.

“Better than being cynical all the time.”

They spent the rest of the walk quietly until they reached the Strip within 25 minutes. 

“…Maybe I should find a restroom to quickly check my hair and makeup before we find the club,” Ann spoke as she realized how long she’d been walking outside.

Mike gave her a quick once over. “You look fine.”

She snorted. “Coming from you that’s not saying much.” 

“No, I mean it. You look…good,” he tried airily.

Ann stopped walking to see if his face was sarcastic or not. She didn’t see anything specific. “…Thanks.” She then added: “You too,” which got Mike to chuckle. 

As they made their way up to the club, Mike motioned for her to step in front of him to make it clear they were entering together. Ann was then reminded of how much less of a celebrity she was compared to the Monkees when the bouncer asked if she was Mike’s date. After stepping inside, Ann noticed the band for the night was an all-girl group with go-go dresses aside their instruments. She then found Micky to the right of the room waving to her and she walked over.

“You and Mike make an attractive couple,” he joked.

“Stop. You’re the third person tonight to say something like that,” she informed tiredly.

“Well, you look like someone he’d go out with.”

Considering she only knew of two women directly associated with Mike intimately, Ann responded, “You know, Mick. You might’ve well said ‘all blondes look alike.’”

He laughed. “Just saying.”

She shook her head with a smirk before moving to sit by Davy and Linda. She ordered a cocktail before noticing Peter sitting at the far end of their corner of the room. The girl she caught him with at the recording studio was still with him. Just from looking at her, Ann estimated she might be either Indian or Persian. She broke out of her brief trance when she realized the girl had her hand on Peter’s leg. When Ann looked away to partake her drink, she found Mike standing near the table with a look on his face telling her he caught her staring. She gave a frustrated reaction while taking a swig of the beverage while he just held a toothy, childlike grin before raising his beer bottle at her. She snorted right when Davy noticed her behavior.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

“Nothing. Mike’s just pissing me off like usual,” she answered, setting her glass down.

“Wait, I heard you were mad at Peter?” 

“Oh. Him too.”

A half hour later, the musician and groupie left the club and only ten minutes later Ann felt like she was ready to end the night already herself. When she told the Jones couple she was heading out, they looked disappointed.

“You barely got here!”

“I know. But this afternoon…and night ended up being a lot more adventurous than I was anticipating,” she explained before hugging them goodbye. After waving bye to Micky and Sammy, she turned to see Mike was still near. She put a $5 on the table for her two drinks, placed her purse over her shoulder and began walking.

“Well…see you later. Thanks for the ride…and town experience.”

“I can get you a ride home too if you want.”

There was an unconvinced pause. “Okay, now it’s getting weird how nice you’re being to me.”

“There is that saying ‘kill them with kindness,’” he said plainly.

“I guess…” 

“And you don’t have enough cash for a ride, remember?”

Ann considered that she now might have enough since she didn’t end up drinking that much. But she also wanted to see how far he would go with this act currently. “Oh, right…”

He then motioned for her to follow him through the dancing crowd. They leisurely made their way until one girl’s arm almost knocked into Ann, and she cautiously leaped forward and awkwardly grabbed Mike’s jacket. She held on for the rest of the walk, just in case it got too crowded. As they left the floor, she noticed he directed to the manager’s office instead of the front entrance. She let go of him when she realized he was borrowing the phone. After a couple of minutes, he hung up and tilted his head toward the front door. When they reached the sidewalk, Ann turned to the reluctant popstar. 

“Well this has been an event. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go home and mull over the fact that you actually did a favor for me today,” Ann commented. 

Mike went into a knowing grin. “Annie.”

She just stood there looking at him.

“I know Monkee Spectacular’s going out of print.”

He said it as if it was supposed to be an answer for his current decency. “Oh…yeah…” Ann still wasn’t completely convinced. “…You are aware that Tiger Beat and NME still exist, right?”

“Yeah, but you won’t need me as much as you did beforehand. Case in point, it’s been almost three months since you last nagged me for an article,” he informed.

Ann wanted to bite back that she doesn’t ‘nag’ her writing subjects, but kept mum as a black car rolled up to the curb. Mike veered near as she slid in and told the driver her address. 

“You still live in West Hollywood?” He asked slightly surprised.

She looked up after placing her bag on the seat next to her. “I know it’s hard to believe, but journalism just doesn’t offer the same paychecks as television and songwriting.”

He smiled with a nod. “I’m not judging. Phyllis and I were in a similar complex before the band, you know,” he reminded. She just nodded in return. A second later Mike leaned back. “See you around.” He closed the passenger door and tapped the car top before going back into the club.

****

Two days later Ann arrived to work a little earlier than usual to find she was the first one to show up for the day. As she made it to her new desk right next to the window with the best view; she noticed a new bottle of ink, a package of typewriting paper and a vintage ballpoint pen on top of her typewriter. Through her peripheral vision she could sense that someone was standing next to her boss’ office door. 

“You can’t buy back my forgiveness, Peter,” she claimed as he stepped forward. “But I am impressed you managed to convince security to let you in.”

He had one of his usual sunny smiles as he stopped in front of her. “Extra effort never hurt. And now you don’t have to go to Stationers for another 6 months!” She shook her head while trying not to smile, knowing it was hard to stay mad at him. “Honestly though, I feel awful I upset you so much,” his stance switching to a more serious tone. “Even worse when I heard you got lost in the Valley.” Ann just stood for a long moment gazing at his face, which she currently read as a mix of hopeful, cautious and remorse. Eventually she reached up to run her hand through his hair. 

“I wish your smile wasn’t so cute,” she finally said. Peter breathed a relieved sigh and his grin grew as he pulled her into a tight hug. She let him hold her before slowly raising her own arms to reciprocate. She couldn’t deny how good it felt. He let out another breath knowing he had her back. 

“Poor you getting stuck with Mike all night,” he half-joked, stepping back but still holding her. Ann briefly thought back to Saturday and how weird it was to spend so much time with the moody guitarist. She decided not to inform Peter that Mike was fine for most of the night. “Next weekend’s on me. Anything you want to do.”

She shrugged. “We don’t have to do anything. You already got me a gift.”

“Aw, come on! You’re my favorite Monkee girl,” he insisted while placing a loose string of hair behind her ear. At that moment, the front door to the office opened and in came four young women. Ann recognized two staff writers and two new interns. The latter two looked particularly shocked to see the light-haired Monkee at their place of work. Ann separated from Peter and leaned against her desk.

“You should probably go, unless you want to spend the morning doing impromptu interviews and signing planners.” 

“Yeah, I’ll take a rain check on that,” he laughed a little. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “I’ll call you later,” he claimed before setting out of the office. Ann mentally gave him credit for saying hi to the two youngest girls before leaving.


	3. Propinquity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another mini-fic ending that primarily puts the 'fic' in 'fanfic,' lol. Unfortunately Mike and Ann never became friends in real life and there's still some tension between them even today. But as a fan of both of them, I couldn't let that happen in my stories, heh. So here's a happy-ish ending instead. 
> 
> Oh, and I think I moved the band's TV appearance with the Raiders back a month so this could fit into the fic timeline.

Ch. 3: Propinquity

Hollywood, April 1969

Ann was only 22 and yet, she was beginning to feel her age. Partly because since she was upgraded to head editor of Tiger Beat, she was encouraged to be the most mature person in the office. Another was that the popstars kept getting younger and younger. When she first started writing in music journalism, the listeners were middle schoolers and the bands were in their early 20s. Now the bands are fronted by kids hardly in high school. A couple of them even younger, like Donny Osmond, Susan Cowsill and Michael Jackson. Most of the guys she’d become friendly with from the Monkees, the Raiders, and the Standells were on the verge of being obsolete as pop culture idols. When Mark Lindsay called her up out of the blue to invite her over to the Raiders’ music variety show because her ‘two favorite teenybopper groups’ were going to be sharing an episode, she made room in her schedule for that Friday afternoon.

She drove up to ABC in a beige feminine work suit and already ran into Mark and Paul in the studio lobby. Then as she stepped out of the elevator, she bumped into the other pop group in question. 

“Hey, Annie!” 

Davy, Micky and Mike saw their favorite magazine correspondent right as they were heading to the dressing rooms. Davy and Micky each gave her a pleasantly surprised hug, while Mike acknowledged her with a casual smile.

“Hello, Mike,” she said with her own subtle smile as they stepped into the dressing room.

“Feels like ages, doesn’t it?” he commented. It did, in Monkee time anyway. This was the first time she’d seen any of them in four months and over five months since she organized a full article on the band. She still couldn’t believe how the turbulent relationship between her and Mike appeared to have successfully transitioned into comfortable acquaintances. 

“How’s our Yankee boy?” He asked referring to Peter.

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him since New Year’s,” Ann replied.

“Ah, well. Obscurity’s the curse of going solo.”

“Please.” She sported a sardonic smirk, not caring if people could hear her. “As if you aren’t counting down the days to do the same once your solo contract is finalized.”

“Why, jeez Louise, Ann, where would you get an idea like that?” He exclaimed while looking around the room in faux paranoia. After about 10 minutes of getting ready, she wished them luck as they all got on the TV soundstage and then watched the first half of the appearance from the stage wings. When the band walked backstage, Davy found her first. 

“I still can’t get used to seeing you guys as a trio. I keep waiting for the bassist to hop onto the right side of the stage,” she conversed.

He just offered a lazy shrug. “His loss.” Ann was then reminded of how Davy could successfully hold a grudge if he wanted to. There was a 15 minute period of the show where the Monkees weren’t needed, so they hung around the backstage lounge. Ann ended up sharing the couch with Mike. She had to laugh to herself if her not needing him for Tiger Beat articles anymore was really all it took to get on his good side. It seemed like it anyway. Some groups might have seen that as a nosedive for exposure, but she knew the guys were hoping to garner some more grown-up fans with their more mature sound. Even if the competition was heavier now in that age group. 

She leaned her arm against the back of the couch as she positioned herself to face him. “Why is it so hard for Peter to get his songs recorded?”

Mike motioned his fingers into the shape of a joint animatedly.

“But he still manages to compose them. And I’ve seen you drink at the studio and still get your tracks finished on time. And…honestly I’m starting to struggle to think of any music artist I know who doesn’t smoke,” she countered.

“I don’t know. Being musically talented and classically trained doesn’t necessarily make you technologically savvy in the studio,” Mike offered.

Ann considered that, but also found it hard to believe since Peter caught on pretty quickly how to work with the old TV setup.

“He is the guy who got kicked out of the same college twice, although that kind of failure is almost impressive,” Mike added flippantly.

She crinkled her brow in amusement. “Didn’t you drop out of both high school and college?”

“Well not all of us can find time to work in music and get a degree like you, missy,” he jested.

She followed with an amused laugh. “What? I didn’t go to college.”

She then saw a rare expression of genuine shock from him. “For real?”

“No. I got hired by Tiger Beat when I was 19. When would I have time for class?” She continued playfully.

“Well…I’m stumped, to be honest.”

She laughed again. “My dad wanted me to go to San Jose State. I enrolled actually, but then I got the magazine position three weeks later; and well, interviewing teen idols sounded a lot more fun than exams.” 

“Fun until an allocated Texan gets in the way,” he stated with a fake sternness.

Ann smirked and thought back to those days three years ago. “You could’ve been a lot worse in retrospect…Although I probably could’ve reported you for sexual harassment.”

Mike looked surprised once more. “Come again?”

“You tried to get me to go away by propositioning me,” she recollected.

He thought back for a couple of seconds before chuckling a little. “Oh, yeah…I wasn’t sincerely intending on going through with that, you know,” he claimed seriously.

“I figured as much.” 

There was a content silence for a minute before Mike spoke again.

“That’s cute you still worry about him.”

Ann just shrugged. “It’s not like we hate each other or anything.” She then chose to change the subject again. “So what’s planned after this gig?”

Mike stretched his legs and leaned farther back into the couch in his dark jeans and white, buttoned shirt. “Not a clue. I’m sure the other two are heading over to Gazzarri’s but, you know, clubbing gets old after a while. That kind of superficial fun is only transient.” He then perked up with an idea. “Hey, you know what does sound fun?” She shook her head smiling a little. “There’s this new restaurant in town with Spanish food—not like all the Mexican places we’ve got, but authentic from Spain. We could go test out their dinner tonight.”

That sounded a lot like a date and if it were literally any two other people, it probably would be. Ann creased her forehead in slight, but amused, suspicion and took hold of his left wrist. She nonchalantly raised his hand up to his face to show him his own wedding band. He feigned ignorance at her silent suggestion and looked humored for a moment. Ann decided now was a good time to say hi to all the guys from the Raiders as she heard the show cut to a commercial break. “As tempting as that sounds, I’m actually meeting Genie and Donna in Echo Park later.” He nodded casually in understanding as she stood up and began toward the exit. “You know who might like to try Spanish food though?”

“Who?” He asked curiously.

“Phyllis!” She exclaimed with an embellished grin. He expressed a knowing look showing that he knew he deserved that. “See you later,” she parted with a light wave and he nodded again in return.


End file.
